


Always the Quiet Ones

by uncafeavecbarnes



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 40s AU, Alcohol, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gags, Military Kink, Military Uniforms, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, authority kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28668840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uncafeavecbarnes/pseuds/uncafeavecbarnes
Summary: Bucky doesn't ask a girl to be quiet often, but with Steve sleeping in the next bed, he gags you with his army issued tie to keep you quiet. After all, Steve doesn't want to hear, does he?
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 93





	Always the Quiet Ones

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, loves. This is truly one of my most favourite pieces I have written and I am eternally grateful to be prompted on this one. It’s no secret that 40s!Bucky is an absolute dreamboat and the heat of this story is quite self-inflicted, too. But, I have no regrets.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always welcome. You can also follow me on Tumblr.

A breeze ripples through the spring night. Warmth hangs in the air. Stray giggles and merry chortles that filter through to the street from the bar. An otherwise quiet hush that blankets Brooklyn. The silence suddenly disturbed. A loud thud as your back hits the front door. Wandering hands that miss the keyhole in their desperation to return to you. A chorus of laughs muffled by his lips on yours.

“Ssh, you gotta be quiet for me, doll, or else we’ll wake Steve.”

Bucky Barnes offers you a smile. One that’s all too dazzling and charmed you before he so much as said _hello_. A few drinks and many more dances. Drawls of his accent as he smoothly flirted the evening away. Somewhat of a popular fella with the ladies, he probably tells them all they’re _pretty as a picture_. And yet, the way he said it to you, you believe him. Words that were only ever meant for _you_.

He’s a handsome man. Devastatingly so. Eyes blue like the sea and framed by thick lashes. Plump pink lips that are as soft as they look. A jawline sharper than that knife you use in the diner. A cleft in his chin, it only makes him all the more endearing. He’s tall and strong, dashing in his military uniform.

Helpless but to run your fingers down the dark green jacket, you curl a fist around his tie. A gasp as you yank him close, lips colliding once more. You’re warm all over just from _kissing_. At first, it was sweet and chaste. A gentle peck that now is _hungry_. You whine when he draws back, breath short and lips wet. Bucky’s hat is tilted at a jaunty angle, you swipe it from him as he hoists you into his arms. A hum of delight and a quiet chuckle. The hat now perched on your head.

“Well, damn, sugar,” whispers Bucky. “You turn up on the front line lookin’ beautiful like that and I reckon you’d end that war once and for all.”

A kiss he quietly groans into. Lips pressed fervently to yours as he carries you across the small apartment. Dark, the yellowing light of a streetlamp peeks through under the curtains. Every step practiced and it’s with ease he drops you to the mattress, hat toppling to the floor. A moan tumbles from your lips, his body covering yours and you mewl once more, his lips crashing down on yours. He nudges your leg with his knee, they part to welcome his weight on yours. Whimpers that seem to rise in decibel with every glide of his hand up your thigh.

“Ssh,” he whispers with a lopsided grin. “Steve’s sleepin’, doll.”

A glance you both spare. A rickety old bedside table the only thing that separates Bucky’s bed from his friend Steve’s. A mop of blonde hair barely visible on the pillow. Soft snores from under the blanket. You bite your lip. It’s undeniably _arousing_. Heat coiling low in your tummy. His friend _right_ _there_ and Bucky is all over you. As if he’s insatiable, drunk on you. Even in the darkness, you can see the lust shadowing his face. A challenge swims in his eyes. They darken a fraction at your nod. You will yourself to remain quiet as lips trail down your neck.

“Sure is a nice dress,” he murmurs, fingers deftly unfastening the buttons. “Bet you look real pretty out of it, too.”

A shiver that courses through you. The air cool on your skin. Bucky swears under his breath, scrambles out of his jacket as his desire spikes, too. It’s between kisses that you tug him free of his tie and shirt. Kisses that have his tongue chasing yours. Kisses that dizzy your brain. Kisses that are fuelled by passion even though his touch is gentle. They make it all the more difficult to stay silent.

Rational thought a thing of the past when his lips roam your neck. He hums, marvels at how soft your skin is. It’s almost lazy, the way he takes his time mapping you out, seeking every spot that makes you gasp and arch your back. You whimper when he scrapes his teeth down the column of your neck. Not enough to leave a mark but it’s a glimpse at how rough he is around the edges and it has you _unbearably_ wet.

“Noisy little thing, aren’t you, sugar?” whispers Bucky, eyes transfixed as your fingers fiddle with his belt. “One of these days, I’m gonna find out all the pretty noises you make.”

“You say that to all the girls, Sarge?” you whisper back teasingly.

You really do have to bite back your giggle at that. Bucky’s jaw slackens as he stands, pants caught around his knees. A sweet, almost innocent wonder about him. Heady want engulfing him and all because you called him _Sarge_. Rising to your knees, you shed the last of your clothes. Every nerve in your body alight under his heated gaze. A wolfish glimmer under a gentlemanly demeanour. A greedy expression as he drinks in every inch of your skin bared just for _him_. Every curve, every contour, every freckle, every line.

“Come on, Sarge,” your voice is quiet, accompanied by a bat of your lashes. “Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a girl waiting?”

“You’re drivin’ me _nuts_ , doll.”

Bucky’s _gorgeous_. Swathed in little light, he stands before you just as bare and you moan at just how _handsome_ he is. Smooth skin you can feel warmth radiating from. His chest rises and falls with every breath, lean and lithely defined. A thatch of dark hair in the centre of his chest. His breath catches when you drag your fingers through it on a descent towards the one place he craves your touch most.

You feel a thrum in your core. Another wave of slick between your thighs. Delicate fingers that elicit a delighted gasp when they wrap around him. He’s hot to the touch, velvety hardness and you bite your lip at how _thick_ he is. Daring enough to stroke him slowly, he gasps again, head tilting back in pleasure. You smirk and glance up at him through your lashes.

“ _Ssh_ , Sarge. You’ll wake Steve.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and you squeal, your back hitting the mattress and the bed emits an almighty creak. There’s a grunt and Bucky freezes, your heart hammering. Steve rolls over, his snores filling the air again and you bury your face in the crook of Bucky’s neck, giggling like the lovedrunk fool you are.

Mischief streaks his smile, his mouth curved as he works you up with another searing kiss. You melt, legs wrapped tight around his waist and fingers curled into his broad shoulders. Cocooned in warmth and his musky scent, you can taste the dregs of whiskey on his tongue. He’s kissing you like he _owns_ you, claiming you for his own and you surrender, purring when his fingers snake between your bodies.

“Bucky!”

“Ssh!”

“But, _Bucky_!”

A creak, this time from Steve’s bed and Bucky stills, mouth still over yours. You tremble, burn up under the premise of pleasure. Only when he’s certain his friend is still deep in slumber does Bucky offer you a series of quick pecks. Each one a jolt of need in your core. His fingers glide through your damp folds, eyes fluttering at the wetness he collects on his fingertips. A show of sucking them clean and you whimper, nails biting into his skin.

“You taste real sweet,” he whispers huskily. “Just like sugar. So wet, too, and all for me. Babydoll, you’re a dream, you know that?”

Barely a sigh past your lips and his hands cup your breasts. A quiet sigh of his own as he mumbles about how _beautiful_ you are, how _badly_ he wants you, how he wants to make you feel _good_ and his name is a shaky breath you ease out. You’re _aching_ for him. _Craving_ the ecstasy he promises. Your kisses tell him as much, messy and red lipstick long smeared across his mouth and yours. His forehead rests on yours, breath tickling as he asks if you’re sure.

 _Yes, yes, Bucky, yes, Sarge_. A mindless plea that turns into a moan. Bucky’s lips back on yours as he slowly sinks into you. An inch at a time, stretching you impossibly and you feel so _full_ it’s overwhelming. A hand under your ass, tilting your hips so and he’s buried so deep you cry out when he rock his hips.

“Goddamn sugar,” he swears breathily. “All those noises drive me crazy but you gotta keep quiet? Can you do that? Be a good girl for me, babydoll?”

You try. Bite down on your lip. Bite down on his shoulder. But the onslaught of pleasure with every thrust of Bucky’s hips has you drowning in the dizziest of ways. Your lips part of their own accord, a purr slipping past with a particularly hard thrust and then Bucky _growls_ in your ear. Your eyes snap open. The feel of his fingers on your lips and he smirks wolfishly. His tie, his _army issued green tie_ , stuffed in your mouth. You shudder as his hot breath fans over your ear.

“Bite down on that, sugar. Bite down _hard_ , ‘cause I’m gonna make you feel real good.”

Gentleness ebbs away, roughness seeps in. A fierce intensity, heat and raw desire, raging in Bucky’s blackened eyes. Wordlessly, he all but slams into you, the head of his cock grazing a spot that makes your back arch. He seems to love it as much as you do. Mutters lowly about how _perfect_ you are, how _hot_ and _silky_ you feel, how he won’t last long when you squeeze his cock like _that_. Every word is as dirty and damning as it is arousing. Your teeth bite into his tie, hands cling on to him as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

Bucky’s hair is a _mess_ , he looks so _wrecked_ with a few tendrils dangling over his face and his lips swollen from how harshly he bites at them to keep quiet. A long, drawn out pace but no less punishing. Your own hips rolling up to meet his. Your head spins, lust courses through your veins and you’re so close. Heat settling over your skin as you feel his cock swell. The bed creaks, and he grabs at the headboard to stop it from smacking against the wall. You see Steve move from the corner of your eye. And God, he could catch you. Catch you _naked_ and being _ruined_ by his best friend.

Bucky’s name is muffled. A hoarse cry. Your teeth sink into the thick tie as you come undone, sheer pleasure rolling through you in hot waves. The flutter of your walls is too much, Bucky tipping over the edge with you and he groans out his release, face buried in the pillow beside you as his hips stutter. The bliss is overwhelming, your head foggy with it as you rake your nails down his back. Hot skin and hard muscle. The scent of sex lingers in the air.

Bucky lifts his head. A sated expression tugging at his features. A sweet, sleepy smile that’s solely for you. A quiet chuckle as he tugs the tie from you, dropping it on the floor. A dip of his head, and he captures your lips in a kiss that shatters you into a thousand pieces.

“Hi, babydoll.” he murmurs, voice gravelly.

“Hi, Sarge.”

It’s bittersweet, how he walks you home. It takes a little longer than it should, what with every stop he makes under a dim streetlamp. He kisses you under one. Dances with you at the next. Lets you straighten that godforsaken tie around his neck at the last one. He supposes he’ll never look at it the same way ever again. Neither will Steve, who sits upright in bed when Bucky returns. Shared smirks.

“You enjoy that, punk?” asks Bucky, placing his hat on the dresser.

“She sounds prettier than the last.” surmises Steve.

“Yeah,” chuckles Bucky, shedding the uniform and perching on Steve’s bed. “Looks a lot prettier, too.”

A pause, one in which Bucky all too noticeable drifts closer. Steve grins. Bucky’s lips mere milimetres from his own.

“Ain’t a patch on you, though, Steve.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Come say hello on Tumblr](http://uncafeavecbarnes.tumblr.com/)


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